


A Sip of Tea

by Ephemeral_Defined



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, But Implied More, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Other, Platonic Relationships, Sensory Overload, Trichotillomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Defined/pseuds/Ephemeral_Defined
Summary: Atsumu is an anxious boy and Sakusa’s love language is making tea.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 248





	A Sip of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Trichotillomania, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks
> 
> Trichotillomania is a disorder characterized by the urge/need to pull out your own hair. Try not to self-diagnose and do your research before hand. Also, seek a medical professional if you have the resources to do so.
> 
> Also if you have a friend or know someone with Trichotillomania, don’t just do the things Sakusa does for Atsumu automatically. It depends on the person and requires a lot of trust. I’ve been dealing with my hair-pulling disorder for about five years now and I don’t see a lot of representation anywhere. I know that it was really comforting to know I wasn’t alone so . . . I present Atsumu as a representation of my experiences with Trich.
> 
> Note that Atsumu is not as loud or cocky as he is usually portrayed. This is mainly because of the setting, plot framing, and how he acts specifically with Sakusa.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

After only a week at University, Atsumu decided that his best bet, both for his grades and his mental health, was to study outside of his dorm room. Don’t get him wrong, Hinata was a great roommate, but he had a talent of distracting Atsumu with his boisterous personality and Atsumu didn’t quite trust himself to get work done when the redhead was around.

Atsumu had resolved to grabbing a table in the large common area on his dorm floor every day after he had dinner. That’s when he first saw him. Tall. Dark curls framing his almost offendingly attractive face. Facemask. Two parallel moles over his left eyebrow.

And despite never speaking to the other man, he was the only other person in the common area as often as Atsumu. Call Atsumu what you like, but he’d like to think the two of them had some sort of connection. Right?

To be honest, the other man would most likely find Atsumu too annoying to bear in most other situations. Especially with his good friends, Atsumu tended to be insufferably loud. He could recognize this. He did have some form of self-awareness. He had also noticed the way the man with the meticulous curly hair would scrunch his eyebrows together and glare whenever other students so much as whispered too loud in the common area. Atsumu could only imagine how the other man would react to his own raucous personality.

Thankfully, Atsumu hadn’t revealed his other side to him yet. Atsumu was too busy studying and working on the excess of assignments due, headphones in and head tilted down. It wasn’t as if Atsumu noticed the other man very often anyway. Atsumu didn’t notice the way curly would squint at the papers sprawled out in front of him as if they had personally offended him. Atsumu also definitely didn’t notice the man would occasionally pull his mask down when it was only the two of them, a gentle smirk playing across his face when he saw something amusing in the indecipherable scrawl of his work.

Anyway. 

Atsumu found a strange comfort in the routine. From about eight to midnight, the two would study together, tables apart. Atsumu’s favorite part of the night was when the other students trickled from the room, normally around ten, leaving just the two of them. Atsumu was normally quite sensitive to chatter and the other sounds of the common area. But when everyone else filtered out, leaving only himself and the dark-haired stranger, Atsumu would occasionally take his headphones half off. He let himself be soothed by the noise of pen on paper, the sounds of turning pages, or the tapping of laptop keys.

§

‘University is the worst,’ Atsumu couldn’t help but think to himself as he adjusted his reading glasses. He had a five-page paper, a lab report, and fifty pages of readings to complete by the following day, not to mention the quiz he had for his eight-thirty class. Atsumu checked the time, his index finger absent-mindedly running over the hairs on his eyebrow.

“12:47,” Atsumu mumbled to himself, wishing he had another cup of coffee. He didn’t have to worry about disturbing the other man as curly-hair had packed up his things and left five minutes prior. 

This was out of the ordinary for a few reasons. Mainly because it was nearly an hour after Atsumu normally left the common room. Secondly because the other man had never left before him. ‘Hopefully he isn’t going to bed at one every morning,’ Atsumu thought to himself.

A few minutes passed before Atsumu sighed in defeat, pushing his laptop away from him and tucking his head into his arms. He berated himself for not working on this sooner. The lab report he couldn’t have done anything about, it had been assigned the previous morning. But the paper? The readings? The quiz? He had known about those for a week. 

He mentally blamed Osamu for wanting to talk on the phone earlier, complaining about something one of his Professors wanted Osamu to do. But Atsumu knew that wasn’t fair. And either way, Atsumu missed his brother, not that he’d ever admit it out loud. 

“Stupid ‘Samu and stupid culinary school,” he mumbled into his arms.

The door to the common room opened. ‘Strange,’ he thought, it was rare for anyone else to join in on his and curly’s late-night study sessions. Though, Atsumu supposed he wouldn’t know how often other students venture into the common area this late as this was the longest he’s stayed.

Something is set down in front of him, jolting him from his thoughts. He lifted his head up.

Atsumu blinked. His eyes shifted in focus from the mug in front of him to the two moles on the man standing next to his table.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Atsumu blinked again, registering what the other man—Sakusa—had said. 

His face shifted into a soft smile, “Miya Atsumu. Nice’ta finally meet ya, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa’s face contorted, clearly displeased with the nickname Atsumu had given him. ‘Way to go, ‘Tsumu,’ Atsumu thought to himself, ‘not even a minute of knowing his name and he already hates you.’

There’s a pause before Atsumu asked, “What’s this?” pointing at the cup of cloudy liquid in front of him. 

Sakusa frowned. Atsumu would be insulted if he hadn’t already known the expression was a permanent fixture on Sakusa’s face. “Oolong tea,” Sakusa explained, “it contains enough caffeine to help you focus, but not enough to prevent you from falling asleep when you finally finish-” he gestured generally at Atsumu’s possessions strewn about the table “whatever it is you’re working on.”

Atsumu nodded slowly in comprehension, though still not completely understanding why the curly-haired man had felt obliged to offer the drink in the first place.

“Thanks,” He said simply, taking a drink from the mug. Warmth spread down his throat into his chest. He wrapped his fingers around the mug as well, finding comfort in the heat of the cup in his hands. “s’good.” He commented. 

Sakusa grunted, seemingly pleased, and turned on his heals “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” turning his head momentarily to glance at Atsumu, who waved a hand in response.

“See ya, Omi.”

§

The next night, Atsumu brought the mug, now washed, back to the common area to give back to Sakusa. Sitting down at his usual table, Atsumu only waited fifteen minutes for Sakusa to enter the common area, mask on. Smiling at him, Atsumu slid the mug close to the edge of the table as an offering. 

Instead of grabbing the mug and immediately scurrying away to his self-assigned table as Atsumu had expected him to do, Sakusa placed a hand on the back of the chair on the opposite side of the table, raising an eyebrow. A request. 

Internally shocked that their university’s resident Byronic hero wanted to sit across from him, Atsumu nodded in reply. He finished up an email to his professor, hit send, and tried to look as nonchalant as possible despite his surprise. Sakusa, as if he hadn’t just astonished Atsumu, busied himself with unpacking his bag and laying out various papers, not saying a word.

Neither of them questioned it verbally, though Atsumu no doubt had many questions. Why had this man decided to sit across from him? But before that, why had he even deigned Atsumu worthy to offer tea in the first place? Atsumu’s hands moved his glasses to the top of his head so he could brush his eyelashes with his finger.

An hour later, Sakusa picked up the abandoned mug and walked from the common room while muttering a “Be right back.” Twenty minutes after that, Sakusa returned, this time with two mugs filled with foggy liquid.

“Oolong?” Atsumu questioned.

Sakusa grunted a confirmation, lowering his mask to take a sip from his own cup and continued his own work.

Atsumu smirked to himself. Free tea and an attractive man sitting across from him as he studied? He could get used to this.

§

This proceeded in a similar fashion for a few weeks after the initial tea incident. Sakusa would join Atsumu and sit across from him wordlessly. After an hour or so, Sakusa would leave and make tea for the both of them. The only time the two would exchange dialogue was immediately following the offering of tea, and the majority of the time it was about the aforementioned tea.

“This isn’t oolong,” Atsumu mentioned stupidly on the fifth day of their new routine.

Atsumu is able to see the right side of Sakusa’s lips turn up as he takes a drink from his own mug, “Chamomile,” Sakusa supplied, “I have to get up early tomorrow and chamomile has no caffeine. Plus, chamomile has been known to aid in reducing stress and improving sleep quality.”

While Atsumu is not particularly inclined to learn more about tea, he’s pretty sure he’d listen to Sakusa talk about just about anything. He cherished those few moments of conversation before they both went back to studying.

On the Friday two weeks after they began sitting together, the common area was especially rowdy. A group of five other students were playing some type of card game a few tables down from them.

Atsumu doesn’t fault the group for their excitement on a Friday night, but he also can’t help the tension causing his shoulders to rise. Usually, his headphones were enough to block out the light chatter that filled the common area. The constant chatter combined with his lack of sleep and the fact that he had an assignment due in the morning only aided in bringing his irritation to a peak.

He knew the agitation was merely a result of a sensory overload caused by his current situation. He wanted to go back to his dorm room or grab his earplugs but Hinata had his boyfriend over and Atsumu would rather naw his arm off than see his roommate making out with someone. ‘Why can’t I just process shit normally?’ Atsumu thought to himself, fidgeting his fingers as he turned his music to his highest volume.

He was pretty sure that Sakusa could hear the white noise streaming from his headphones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Atsumu picked at his eyebrows, half-aware, irritation still boiling over.

He didn’t notice the concern slightly furrowing Sakusa’s face across from him. 

“Hey,” Atsumu looked up. Sakusa glanced at the rowdy group in disgust, “it’s too loud in here. I’m going to go back to my room to study, would you like to join me?”

Atsumu simply nodded and began collecting his things, going through the motions though not completely aware. He followed behind Sakusa to his room, only a few doors down from his own, and was ushered inside. 

He sat on the bed at Sakusa’s instruction, the other man placing his bag on his desk and grabbing what Atsumu guessed was an electric tea kettle. Some still sentient part of Atsumu’s mind noted to tease Sakusa about that later.

Atsumu watched Sakusa fill the kettle with water and go through the process of making two cups of tea. ‘Chamomile.’ Atsumu read on the box Sakusa placed next to the kettle.

It was therapeutic, watching Sakusa’s rehearsed motions as he drowned out all noise with the buzzing in his ears. If Sakusa noticed his fidgeting, his restlessness, he didn’t say anything. Atsumu was grateful, the last thing he needed was the gorgeous man in front of him to tell him he was a freak.

Atsumu didn’t move to empty his bag or busy himself with work. He hoped Sakusa didn’t mind. He probably though Atsumu was unhinged, was probably judging him for not being able to keep his shit together.

A mug placed in his hands interrupted his thoughts. He didn’t look up as he muttered a thanks, afraid of what he might see. He took a sip, pressing the mug of tea to his chest. Atsumu closed his eyes and took a deep breathe in, holding it for a moment, and breathed out. He let the tension, the irritation, the fear, drain from his body until all he felt was exhaustion.

He glanced up to Sakusa. Atsumu could see the back of his head, curls bouncing slightly as he scribbled something at his desk.

Atsumu breathed in again and turned his music off. The sounds of white noise were incomparable to the sound of pen on paper on wood.

§

They continued like that for a while, but slowly transitioned from study partners to something akin to friends. At first, they rarely joined each other in their rooms, but at the start of summer term, the frequency of dorm study sessions increased until they were equivalent to how often they both studied in the common area.

On one particular Saturday, Atsumu was especially exhausted. He hadn’t yet left his room when Sakusa texted him, asking if Atsumu wanted to come over to study.

Atsumu sighed and looked in the mirror, face bare. He stared blankly at his reflection. He hadn’t gotten the chance to put on makeup to hide the lack of hair on his brows and lashes, but he also didn’t feel like spending fifteen minutes drawing in the features.

He considered taking a rain check on Sakusa, but immediately rejected the idea. He cherished the time in the day where he would study with Sakusa, no matter how little they spoke. 

Besides, he had known Sakusa for a few months now. He was sure Sakusa wouldn’t judge him too harshly for something he had little to no control in the first place.

Atsumu texted Sakusa, letting him know he’d be right over, and grabbed his things. Opening the door to his room, he checked to make sure that no one else was in the hallway before trudging to Sakusa’s door.

As he knocked on the door, he ignored the tightness in his chest that resulted from the mere possibility of Sakusa’s judgement.

Sakusa opened the door a moment later and Atsumu couldn’t help but notice the way Sakusa’s eyes widened slightly above his mask as soon as he saw Atsumu. That tension knotted his chest a bit more.

Before he can stop himself, words spilled from Atsumu’s mouth in defense as he entered the room.

“Okay so I’ve got a habit-anxiety-body-focused-repetitive-behavior disorder thing where I yank ma hair out. It’s got a whole medical name for it an’ everything, called Trichotillomania or whatever,” he rambled, “I can’t really help it and I’ve been doing it fer years so it’s just normal at this point I guess. Jus’ wanted ta let ya know ‘cause I know I look a bit weird without makeup.”

Atsumu finally took in breath after his rehearsed word barf, glancing at Sakusa for his reaction. 

Sakusa’s face was blank. This wasn’t unusual for the curly-haired man, but Atsumu found himself biting his lip and twisting his fingers together anyway. Atsumu should have stayed in his room or at least filled in his eyebrows before he came over. Of course Sakusa would think he was weird or disgusting for this. He seemed to hate strangers in the common area more for doing less. 

Atsumu debated just leaving and never speaking to Sakusa again until he saw Sakusa pull his mask down under his chin before smiling gently. Atsumu was sort of glad Sakusa didn’t smile often, because if he was already a ten with a scowl and a face mask—

“Thanks for telling me, and you don’t look weird.” Sakusa said before turning around and grabbing his kettle, “What kind of tea would you like?”

The blonde blinked, feeling the pressure release from his chest.

His shoulder’s sagged, “Do ya got any more’a that chami-stuff?”

“Chamomile? Yeah, I do.”

Atsumu sat down on Sakusa’s bed, back against the wall and laptop on his legs, while Sakusa finished their tea. However, after handing Atsumu his drink, Sakusa positioned himself on the bed next to Atsumu.

Just like the first time Sakusa had sat with Atsumu, neither said a word. Sakusa readjusting himself, book in one hand and mug in the other. Atsumu experiencing another internal crisis and trying his best to hide it.

The more time passed, the more Atsumu allowed himself to settle. He found reassurance in the dark-haired man’s presence as he finished up another assignment. Atsumu skimmed over what he had read, hand absently tugging on his lashes. If he wasn’t aware his own action, then he certainly didn’t notice Sakusa glancing at him from the corner of his eye as Atsumu brushed his eyelash onto his lower lip.

§

About two weeks later, Kiyoomi and Atsumu were sitting in a similar position in Atsumu’s dorm. This time, Atsumu had his legs tucked underneath him, back to the headboard, squinting at the papers in front of him. Kiyoomi sat against the wall near the end of the bed, perpendicular to Atsumu.

Atsumu only invited Kiyoomi over to his room to work when Hinata wasn’t present. This was for similar reasons as to why Atsumu didn’t like to study in his own room either. That night was no exception.

Atsumu looked down in frustration at the work strewn in front of him and nearly groaned out loud. He tried to think, resting his elbows on his knees as he brushed all ten fingers against his brow line.

A voice suddenly interrupts his suffering, “Stop touching your eyebrows.”

Atsumu starts. Removing his hands from his face, he glanced up at the only other man in the room. Kiyoomi’ s face was blank. Atsumu thought for a moment that he had hallucinated the words.

“I apologize if I’ve crossed a line,” Kiyoomi continued, voice level, “I just figured you might-” He paused, glancing towards the ceiling, deliberating his word choice.

Atsumu didn’t let him finish his sentence.

“No, it’s fine, Omi,” Atsumu noticed Kiyoomi’s nose didn’t wrinkle as it usually did at the name, “it kinda helps actually.”

Kiyoomi nodded in response, “I’m glad,” before turning his eyes to Atsumu, “would you like more tea?”

‘This boy and his tea.’ Atsumu thought to himself, endeared. He actually said, “Sure, Omi-omi, thanks.”

§

Atsumu was debating whether or not to drop out. Not actually, of course. But the longer Atsumu read over his class notes, pen gripped tightly in his right hand, the more appealing dropping out became. 

He was sitting on Kiyoomi’s bed, yet again. It was the final week of the summer term and Atsumu is surprised Kiyoomi hadn’t gotten tired of him yet.

Groaning, he flopped forward onto the bed, arms splayed in front of him. His left hand landed on the book in Kiyoomi’s lap.

“Omi, this is impossible,” he whined as he felt a hand lift up his wrist and fling it onto the bed, followed by a sound of disgust.

“Miya, if you don’t shut your trap I am going to kick you out of my room,” Kiyoomi snapped.

That was another thing. Kiyoomi seemed to have gotten much more comfortable around Atsumu. To anyone else, Kiyoomi probably appeared displeased at Atsumu’s existence, but Atsumu knew better. Sure, Kiyoomi was meaner to Atsumu than he was to most people, despite having a general dislike for most everyone. But Atsumu saw the insults as a compliment because he knew that meant Kiyoomi was comfortable around him. This was proven by the fact that the curly-haired man rarely wore a mask in Atsumu’s company anymore. And either way, Atsumu could tell there was never any real bite to Kiyoomi’s retorts.

Atsumu chuckled and sat up, pushing his reading glasses onto his forehead in the process. He felt his eyelashes with his left hand, disappointed by how few hairs he found.

He liked to joke that you could tell how well he was doing by the thickness of his eyebrows and eyelashes. But truthfully, the more stressed Atsumu found himself, the more inclined he felt to pull and tug on his hair. 

Currently, the state of his lashes confirmed it was indeed finals week.

Admittedly, Kiyoomi had helped to some extent by continually being equally annoying and supportive about the whole thing. Ever since the first time Kiyoomi had called Atsumu out for touching his eyebrows, Kiyoomi kept being Atsumu’s external impulse control.

When in their own rooms or alone in the common area, Atsumu found himself berated by Kiyoomi in a mostly verbal manner. Most of the time this meant a quick, “stop touching your eyebrows or eyelashes.” Though Kiyoomi also deigned to abbreviate simply to a “stop” or even just by saying “hey” in an authoritative and disapproving tone.

In less private settings, such as in the common area early in the evening, Kiyoomi normally resorted to non-verbal commands. 

The blonde found his attention grabbed by a tap on the foot or the hand. Sometimes Kiyoomi would simply nudge something Atsumu was working on out of place. 

Atsumu was abruptly brought back to the present as Kiyoomi grabbed his left hand in his right and placed it between them on the bed. He froze.

‘Well, this is new,’ Atsumu thought, working to regulate his now racing heartbeat. Like always, Kiyoomi looked unbothered, as if he hadn’t turned Atsumu’s world on its axis.

Kiyoomi released his hand for a moment and turned the page of his book before reaching down and grabbing Atsumu’s again. This time, Sakusa’s thumb trailed circles over the back of Atsumu’s hand in a soothing motion.

Atsumu was not about to oppose Kiyoomi’s offer of physical affection and decided to shift his focus back to the hell that was his class notes. He allowed himself to relax, finding reassurance in Sakusa’s touch.

§

The fall term began with a series of last-minute roommate changes. Hinata decided to transfer to a different university because of his major, leaving Atsumu alone and stressed about his potential new roommate. Omi, being unfairly the most perfect person Atsumu has ever had the misfortune of meeting, offered to room with Atsumu instead.

“But Omi-Omi, didn’tcha want to live alone? Isn’t that why ya have a single?”

“The reason I have a single is because I didn’t trust a random individual to be willing or able to meet my standards of cleanliness or productivity. And while you are exceedingly annoying,” Omi paused for a moment while Atsumu protested the insult, “I trust you to be willing and able to respect my boundaries as a roommate.”

At those words, Atsumu most definitely had not felt tears fill up his eyes while he pouted. 

All else aside, Atsumu was touched that Omi trusted him so much, and so that had been that. At the start of the fall semester, Omi and Atsumu moved into Atsumu and Hinata’s old room. 

This brought up a whole new set of dynamics between the two.

In addition to the tea Sakusa made during their nightly study sessions, Atsumu found cups of tea on his desk or near his bed most mornings when he woke up and occasionally in the afternoon when he came back from classes. Previously, Atsumu had still lived off coffee in the mornings to get through his day. With Omi’s efforts, he had practically completely transitioned to tea.

Another significant change was that Atsumu found himself applying his makeup in front of Omi.

At this point, Atsumu was nearly completely comfortable being around Omi in all forms of make-up undress. But now that they were living together, Atsumu designated the responsibility of ‘make-up second opinion’ to his grumpy roommate.

In other words, after Atsumu filled in his brows, drew on his liner, and marked his upper lash line with dark powder, he ran up to Omi to ensure its even-ness. 

Most days, Omi only nodded his approval. On others he mentioned that one side was slightly lopsided so Atsumu could quickly adjust the issue. The best days were when the dark-haired man nodded and commented verbally.

“It looks good, ‘Tsumu,” Oh, Omi also called him ‘Tsumu now.

Atsumu beamed, “Aw, Omi-Omi! Do ya think I look pretty?”

“Yes, idiot, now go,” Omi deadpanned and looked at his phone, “your class starts in ten minutes,”

He wanted to say something about Omi openly admitting Atsumu’s attractiveness, but then he realized Omi was right. He did have a class in ten minutes. All the way across campus.

“Shit!” Atsumu yelled, grabbing his bag in the process. Omi let out a chuckle as Atsumu slammed the door behind him.

§

If someone had told Atsumu at the beginning of the year that he would find something far greater than simple friendship with the scowling curly-haired man from across the common area, well, he obviously wouldn’t have believed them. But here he was again, after nearly six months of knowing Sakusa Kiyoomi, in that same common area. They were sitting at Atsumu’s table still, even though it might as well be theirs. It was now about 11:00 at night and midway through the term, and neither had the workload burden present during finals.

Omi had, of course, brought tea. It was a new kind of Oolong that Omi had wanted them to try. Atsumu had no complaints, especially as Omi’s hand grasped his from across the table.

With the decreased workload and Omi’s persistent efforts, Atsumu’s hair growth was better than it had been in a while. While he didn’t feel comfortable going out in public without makeup on yet, he only needed to add a small layer of product to pass.

Atsumu felt a hand tilt his chin up and looked towards Omi, who was gazing back at him intently.

“Omi?” Atsumu croaked, confused.

“Hold still, you’re smudged,” Atsumu’s eyes shut as Omi’s thumb swiped at his temple, wiping away the alleged smudge. Atsumu suppressed a shiver.

After a moment, the motion stopped, but the palm cupped against Atsumu’s cheek remained. He opened his eyes and was met with dark ones. A look of intense fondness carved onto the dark-haired man’s face.

Atsumu mirrored the expression.

“Thanks, Omi.” It was just two words, but they were both aware of how much they meant.

The dark-haired man sighed, dragging Atsumu’s face forward and leaning in himself to plant two lips on Atsumu’s forehead.

“Anytime, idiot,” Omi muttered between Atsumu’s brows, before settling back down and taking a sip of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if you have a friend or loved one you know with Trich, make sure you talk with them about how they want you to react to their Trichotillomania. I know many people would not be comfortable with you commenting or pointing out when their pulling. Make sure to respect everyone’s preferences!
> 
> If you have Trich, I hope this helped or provided some comfort or reassurance. Remember, you are valid and not alone!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated :)


End file.
